


Prince Charming

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Pack Feels, Rated M for Discussions of Death and Dying, Terminal Illnesses, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is dying. Derek has something to say about that. It's insincere and untrue, but he's going to say it anyway because it means he just might save his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t let Stiles die. Scott wouldn’t be the same and Derek already knew what it was like to lose someone. The fact of the matter was, Stiles had made his wishes _painfully_ clear. He didn’t want to be turned. He was dying and he had made peace with that. No bite. The Sheriff was dealing with it on the surface, telling everyone who asked that he respected his son’s wishes, but Derek could hear his heartbeat change whenever he reassured someone. He wanted Stiles to be bitten. Scott did. Hell, even Isaac didn’t want to see the little shit die. However, Scott was determined to honor Stiles’ wishes so he was guarding his hospice bedside.

So Derek decided to be several levels of immoral and show up to manipulate Stiles’ feelings so he could save everyone elses. Because that was what Derek did. He started with the best of intentions and then fucked up royally. At least this time he knew it ahead of time, so he was already layering on thick levels of anti-guilt skin.

Derek knocked on the doorframe to Stiles’ bedroom. He’d wanted to die at home. In his bed. He’d gotten half his wish as they’d moved in a hospital bed so he could be easily cared for. Scott had begged off school and the board had allowed him to temporarily be homeschooled until Stiles passed away. Scott was currently playing a video game while Stiles watched, too weak to participate beyond the occasional weak smile and amused glance at Scott. He managed a comment now and then, but the silence was quite possibly even more disturbing than the smell of sickness in the air.

“Hey, guys,” Derek says softly, “I… um… I wanted to talk to Stiles in private for a moment.”

“Nope,” Scott replied, “I’m not leaving his side. Sorry, dude.”

“I want to… fuck, Scott, I want to say goodbye.”

Scott winces and his car crashes on the screen, “He’s… they said he still has a week.”

“Seven days… without sleep,” Stiles wheezes, and laughs a bit to himself. Scott smiles softly, getting the joke, but Derek just feels ill.

“It’s kind of personal and I want him to… still be able to…” Derek swallows hard, not having trouble working up a few tears, “Just a few minutes?”

Scott hesitates, but isn’t swayed. He knows that Derek wants to turn Stiles and has been determined to make sure it doesn’t happen, “Sorry man. Anything you can say to Stiles you can say in front of me.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, nodding slightly.

Derek nods and comes fully inside, “Okay, but this is going to be weird later.”

He hadn’t really expected Scott to leave, so he already knows what he’s going to say. He just takes a moment to pretend to collect himself while Stiles gives him a slightly mocking grin. His eyes start to drift shut, sleep coming more naturally than consciousness, so Derek starts to talk before he can fall asleep on him.

“Look, we’ve both been ignoring something for a year now and… I don’t want it to end that way. I know how you’ve felt about me and… well… it’s not totally unreciprocated,” Derek took a deep breath and gently took Stiles’ hand, ignoring the bandaged IV line, “I tease you because it’s easier that way. I mean, you’re underage and your dad’s the sheriff and… frankly I just wanted you to live a little and have your own experiences before…”

Derek’s voice choked off, honestly not able to continue. Half of it was bullshit- he had no romantic interest in Stiles- but he really was broken up that the young man was dying before his life had even begun. He took a deep, steadying breath and when he looked at Stiles again a tear was running down his cheek. His eyes hadn’t looked so focused and clear in a long time. Derek knew what he was about to do was risky. Stiles was weak. The bite could kill a strong person. Of course, half of that was severity: a deep bite was more likely to _work_ , but it was also just as likely to kill the person before the healing ability kicked in. Sometimes people changed because of a love bite given in the midst of passion with their human lover, but that was even more rare than people dying from a bite. That was why Derek had partly decided to leave this up to fate.

“Stiles, I know this isn’t ideal. I know it’s… I don’t want you to leave without… can I kiss you? Just a kiss? I know it’s not appropriate, but-“

“Yeah,” Stiles gasped out, his throat rattling a bit. He coughed and Derek dove for the water before an awkward Scott could intervene. He held it up to Stiles’ lips and he sipped through the straw, eyes still locked on Derek’s. When he could breath easily again he continued, “My breath is probably rank.”

Derek smiled softly, “I don’t care. I just want this.”

Another tear slid free and part of Derek hated himself a little more. He squashed it down like an unruly beta. This wasn’t the time to question his already questionable morals. Stiles licked his lips and Derek leaned in, eyes still locked on his.

Scott was close by, almost at his elbow, having moved forward anxiously after the coughing incident. He was probably expecting Derek to try something. He wasn’t wrong. Derek slotted their lips together- and Stiles’ breath was fine, it tasted like crisp water and something fruity- and turned his head to deapen it after a moment. His tongue slid into Stiles’ mouth, willing him to keep it together long enough for Scott to get uncomfortable and look away. Stiles did one better. He managed to lift the hand Derek wasn’t holding and slide it through his hair. Derek moaned softly, surprised at the real spark of lust that simple touch shot through him. It had been too long since someone touched him with such tenderness, and the scent of pack in the room was disabling his mental defenses.

Scott made a strangled sound and turned away, giving them a modicum of privacy and quite possibly crying. Derek coaxed Stiles’ tongue forward with his own and in the second that the young man’s soft muscle shyly entered Derek’s mouth he took full advantage of it. His teeth shot out and he bit his tongue sharply, but only for a moment. Then he released it when Stiles let out a sharp gasp of pain. Derek sat back and gave him a worried look.

“I’ve upset you,” He said softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“No,” Stiles choked out, shaking his head. His tears were falling faster now and Derek felt like the monster legend said he was, “No.”

“I should go,” Derek picked up the hand he’d been holding and pressed a kiss to it, “I’m sure you’re tired. Can I visit you tomorrow?”

Stiles sobbed and Derek pulled himself away, pushing past Scott when he tried to waylay him and fleeing the Stilinski house. He swallowed the sharp taste of blood in his mouth and tried to tell himself he’d done the right thing. Stiles would either continue to die as he had been, suddenly and miraculously heal, or… die in the night in excruciating pain that even the morphine he had ample supply of wouldn’t be able to handle. Derek vowed to return that night and end it himself if that was what happened.

Derek did sneak back that night, but when he did it was to find Scott passed out on the mattress they’d laid out for him on the floor and Stiles sitting up in bed fiddling with the machines beside his bed.

“Can’t turn the morphine off. It sounds an alarm. Same with all these stupid sensors,” Stiles muttered, “Can’t even unplug it, because the stupid fucking thing has a back up battery the size of my jeep’s.”

Derek headed over and carefully shut it down the proper way.

“How’d you know how to do that? Hm? You regularly fuck with people’s heads, tell them you love them, and then give them the kiss of life? Huh, prince charming? That your shtick?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek replied, “I couldn’t let your friends and family go through this any longer.”

“I didn’t want to be a wolf,” Stiles choked out, “I made that perfectly clear. I’ve seen what you guys go through, and I know how long you live, and frankly I’m not interested in prolonging an already fucking awful life.”

“Your life isn’t that bad.”

“Sure, compared to yours it’s roses and sunshine,” Stiles grumbled, “But we’re not talking apples and oranges here. I hate my life, Derek. I fucking hate everything about it. I hate missing my mom. I hate being the sidekick. I hate being the weakest link. I hate that I fuck up my dad’s life at every turn. I hate that I can’t focus on one _fucking subject_ for more than a minute, even _with_ my head filled up with pills to slow it down. I hate that I have to be slowed down!”

Stiles’ voice had slowly risen, shaky and weak still, angry and choking with misery, so while Derek hadn’t tried to stop it he was also listening carefully for the moment Scott woke up. The younger alpha stood up slowly and focused on Stiles, listening rather than acting for a change. Stiles was shaking a bit, but his complexion was so changed that there was no doubt he was healing. Scott had to know what that meant.

“You _bastard_ ,” Scott whispered. Derek waited for him to strike out, but instead he rushed around and threw his arms around Derek’s neck to hug him tightly, “You stupid, selfish, ignorant _bastard_ ,” Scott sobbed, “Thank you. Thank you.”

Derek rubbed Scott’s back as months of pretending to smile and finishing Stiles’ weak attempts at jokes came tumbling out of him. His legs went out and Derek sank into a chair, rocking him slowly as the younger werewolf curled up in a ball in his lap and wept brokenly. He was wailing bitterly when Stiles’ father burst into the room, tears already in his eyes and hands shaking. He hadn’t shaved in days and he smelled like a distillery.

“Stiles?” The sheriff choked out.

“It’s fine, dad,” Stiles replied miserably, “I’m fine. Derek cured me with a _kiss_. Feel free to hug him like Scott’s doing.”

The sheriff didn’t hug Derek. He hugged Stiles, clutching him tightly and sobbing into his hair while whispering _my son_ over and again. Derek sat there and wondered why he still felt so awful for having bitten Stiles when everyone else was all for it, but the hurt, betrayed look on Stiles’ face said it all.

 _He’s never going to forgive me_.

_I don’t care._

_It was worth it._

_And I’ll show him it was._


	2. Chapter 2

Deaton patted Derek on the shoulder and told him to rest up, leaving him to lean on Stiles as he limped awkwardly out the door with wounds bandaged. They were from an alpha so it was going to take time to heal, but the discomfiture was because he was leaning on _Stiles_. Stiles who two years ago he had falsely confessed his love to and then bitten against his will. Stiles who still came when he called for his pack, but refused to participate and spoke to him so rarely that Derek wasn’t sure he recalled the sound of his voice. Stiles who had gone to _Scott_ for his first moon as a werewolf. Stiles who still hadn’t forgiven Derek despite many apologies and shared adventures.

Stiles dropped Derek into the passenger seat of his car and then climbed into the front, starting up the vehicle and pulling out to head for Derek’s loft. Stiles probably wasn’t aware, but he was the only pack member allowed to drive Derek’s car. Derek took a deep breath and decided to break the silence, not really expecting results but needing to speak.

“Thank you for saving my life tonight.”

Stiles turned onto the main road and then sighed as the traffic became congested. There was a carnival up ahead and the small town was hungry for something to do. It would be ages before they could get through.

“I’m not going to thank you,” Stiles spat out.

“For what?” Derek wondered, surprised he’d even gotten an answer.

“For ruining my death two years ago.”

“Oh. Right. That.”

“You’re a selfish asshole, Derek.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Derek agreed blandly, “It’s coloured many of my life choices.”

“What were you even thinking?”

“That your friends and family wouldn’t have to spend the rest of their lives mourning you,” Derek snarled irritably, “I’m not sorry, Stiles. I know it was wrong, but I don’t regret it and you being a angry about it for the rest of your life isn’t going to change that.”

“Not that,” Stiles snapped, “I’m not angry about that anymore. I stopped being angry about that when my dad cried and then quit drinking because apparently me surviving was a bargain he made with god or satan or something.”

“Okay, so what are you pissed about?”

“You _told me you loved me,_ you colossal wanker!” Stiles spat out, “What the _fuck_ were you thinking? Was it supposed to be funny? Did you think I’d buy it for one second after you bit me? Were you hoping I’d suddenly develop a will to live?”

Derek considered his questions for a while as Stiles swore angrily at the traffic.

“You were thin,” Derek spoke softly, “And pale, and you smelled like death… and I wanted to see your eyes light up one last time… just in case the bite didn’t take.”

Stiles was rendered speechless for several minutes, and they passed the carnival and turned onto the road to his loft. They parked outside just as it began to rain. Stiles sat there in the driver’s seat with a stricken look on his face.

“And when I started crying after?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t figure out I didn’t mean it,” Derek admitted, “That you’d either die believing I returned your feelings or turn.”

“And after I turned, still enamored with you and convinced you were equally smitten with me?” Stiles asked with a bite to his voice.

“Well,” Derek scoffed, “You were seventeen. I was going to tell you we had to wait until you were eighteen and then hope you fell for someone more appropriate. Maybe Isaac. Maybe a human.”

“Yeah?” Stiles snapped, “Well you done fucked up Derek, because it’s been two years and two days and I’m still fucking in love with you.”

“You… what?” Derek gaped at him.

“You heard me, wolf ears. I hate you so _fucking_ much, but I still have feelings for you. So your plan wouldn’t have worked even if it _had_ worked. You failed. Miserably. So now what, asshole?” Stiles demanded, his voice cracking at the end of his dialogue.

Derek rubbed at his face for a moment and then turned as best he could in his seat. He caught up Stiles’ trembling hand from the stick shift and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“This Saturday?”

“For… for what?” Stiles asked, sniffling miserably.

“A date, Stiles,” Derek deadpans.

“Is this another joke?”

“It wasn’t a joke the first time, and it isn’t one now,” Derek told him, “This obviously isn’t a meaningless crush to you and I felt a spark back then. I’d like to see where that goes.”

“It hasn’t gone anywhere in two years,” Stiles pointed out.

“You’ve been _avoiding me_ for two years, Stiles. I’ve barely seen you. I almost didn’t recognize your voice earlier. Excuse me if nothing blossomed on my end once you passed the magical 18 year mark.”

“So… we’re doing this?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, we’re doing this,” Derek squeezed his hand gently, “Just as soon as you help me upstairs so I can pass out for a while.”

“Oh, shit! I forgot you’re hurt!”

“How can you forget that?” Derek complained as Stiles ran around the car to help him out, “You’re a werewolf. I smell like blood.”

“I dunno, I just smell your skin and…” Stiles froze, eyes wide, but Derek just smiled at him fondly.

“Take me to bed, Stiles.”

“That… okay… yeah… I’m going to _not_ interpret that.”

“Good, because I really am hurt.”

“Right. Hurt. Got it.”

Stiles helped Derek up to his flat and then helped him into the bed, pulling off his shoes while Derek undid his pants. Stiles helped him get his shirt off and Derek shimmied out of the pants himself, but when he moved to lie down Stiles stopped him with a touch to his wrist.

“What is it?” Derek asked, blinking tiredly.

“I want another kiss,” Stiles demanded, voice firm, “You owe me a kiss.”

“Okay,” Derek nodded, “Seeing as how the tables are turned this time, c’mere and kiss me.”

Derek sank back against the bed and Stiles leaned forward eagerly, but hesitated with a hot puff of breath against his lips. Derek licked his lips, his tongue just barely touching Stiles’ bottom lip, and the younger wolf chased it back into his mouth. Their kiss was hot and hungry, with just as much teeth as the first one as Stiles nipped viciously at Derek’s tongue. Their lips parted with a blush of red from Stiles’ bite tingeing Derek’s lips like lipstick. Stiles grinned and licked it off. No more blood followed. Derek had healed. Stiles licked his lips, eyes flashing yellow. Derek smiled.

“Look at you lust after me,” Derek purred, “You like drawing blood, Stiles?”

“I guess so,” Stiles replied, “At least yours.”

“Kinky,” Derek purred, “We’re going to have a _lot_ of fun. _When I’m healed_.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Going, going, gone,” Stiles sighed, standing and heading for the exit. Derek watched his ass as he walked towards the door with a pleased smirk on his face.


End file.
